The Need For Revenge
by Fallingdux
Summary: Read inside information for summery. B/A
1. A Short Prologue

Title: A Need For Revenge  
  
Author: me again =)  
  
Rating: PG. I'll probably change that later though.  
  
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine. All characters and ideas are property of Joss Whedon and the creators of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.  
  
Summery: Angel became a prisoner of the gypsies after murdering the young Calderash girl. He is entrapped by enchantments in a small hut, forced to suffer for his actions. A few hundred years later, after the gypsies have died out, Buffy happens upon the hut. (yes, she is a slayer) What happens next? Read and find out....  
  
AN: my second fic. I'm only writing this while waiting to come up with some more ideas for my other story.  
  
The black glow faded from the old woman's eyes. Her expression was tired and weary from all that she had seen during her life: pain, death, suffering, starvation, poverty, demons, and other nightmares beyond imagination. Today, though, her soul was especially anguished. Her eldest granddaughter, a great symbol in the clan, had been murdered.  
  
With a deep sigh, the old woman raised her eyes to meet those of her companion's. Her voice was merely a whisper, but the power of her tone amplified her words.  
  
"I have foreseen my own death. My passing is soon, and there is not time enough for me to oversee the vampire's tortures. Therefore, I am entrusting you to watch over him. It will be your duty to ensure that he never feels a moment's happiness or a day's peace. Prepare your daughters, for they too will eventually carry the same burden. And their children too. Inia's memory must never fade."  
  
"Yes, mother," Janna responded respectfully. "But how will I keep an eye on him? You can't expect me to be able to follow such an invisible beast."  
  
"At this moment, and for the rest of his existence, he shall reside in the hut by the edge of the forest. Only you, and the ones chosen to take over your duty, will be allowed to pass the threshold.  
  
"But how can you be sure he won't escape? Are your magicks strong enough to tame him?" The old woman gave a humorless laugh.  
  
"I cannot tame a wild animal, I can only restrain him. For now, enchanted chains gird his wrists, and he is tied around the center wooden pole that stands in the hut. Besides, his mind should prove to be a better cage than even I could conjure up...at least for the first few days." She smiled thinly. "Please do not fail me, child. This is the most significant request I have ever given. If you succeed, than my spirit can be at rest. More importantly, so can Inia's." 


	2. Part 1

Screams filled the night. The scent of fear was assailed his senses. It pained him to know that, at one time, he would have been out there, delighting in the 'game' of hide-and-seek that was obviously taking place outside his hut.  
  
By what he had heard so far, he deduced that the Calderash were being attacked by swarms of vampires, and perhaps the occasional demon. The people were scattered about, running aimlessly...pointlessly. The powerful, tempting smell of blood increased with every second, informing him that whatever magic the Elders possessed was failing. The gypsies were losing; by the end of the night, every last one would be dead. Lifeless bodies with frozen eyes would decorate the village, remnants of the 'great feast.' Angel didn't have to see it to picture it.  
  
He wanted to see it though. Perhaps he might have been able to, too, if his muscles weren't so weak---after all, his hut *did* have a small window, even if it was just a poor imitation.  
  
By now, Angel had inferred that this window faced west. Contrary to what one might think, he hated it with a passion. He was supposed to; it was one of his many tortures. The gypsies had devised it in such a way that it wouldn't kill him: a mirror hung, slanted, from the top of the window. Supposedly, this deflected the sun's rays, thus preventing the sun from entering the hut.  
  
Still, that didn't stop his from feeling very uncomfortable and weak every night as the sun set. Nor did it allow him to 'forget' how many days actually had passed since he had been trapped. His current count was about 9650 days. In normal terms, that was a little more than 26 years. In that time, not once had he left the small confines of his hut.  
  
Every week or so, the Chosen Gypsy would come by to torture him, and then she would undo his bounds, allow him to eat, and then re-chain him. It was a system, perfectly devised such that it never changed. He had reached the point where he waited for his tortures, expected the blood, and accepted the chains. As the gypsies had intended, the vampire was practically dependant on his captors.  
  
So, that explains why Angel just sat there, listening to the din around him rather than trying to escape. One of the lessons that the Chosen had taught him was never to speak or to move. Ever. When he did, blood would be denied of him, and, already, he was on the brink of starvation.  
  
Rationally, he knew that he would not get in trouble if he attempted to save the village now. But just as rationally, he knew he had no chance in his current state. And, to be frank, he wasn't sure he *would* save the gypsies, even if he was given the opportunity.  
  
After all, he hated the Calderash people for what they had done to him. Sure, he felt he deserved the abuse at times, but other times (usually during the torture) he realized what an inhumane group of people they were.  
  
As the splinters of wood pressed sharply against his bare back he was reminded of the fact that this was one of the lesser pains that he was forced to endure: others included the thick, rusting chains that dug into his skin; the rainfalls of sharp, jagged stones that were thrown through his window by mischievous children; the spell-induced nightmares given to him by the Chosen Gypsy; the cruel tauntings of Angelus within his mind; etc.  
  
Trapped in the swirling abyss that was his mind, Angel did not sense the familiar feeling...the one that told him---  
  
"Hello, lover. Miss me?" Angel mentally groaned. He lifted his eyes a bit, allowing him to see the ankles of the speaker. He didn't need to see the girl to know who it was...the voice and the smell told him enough. "Darla?" he croaked. 


	3. Part 2

Darla tilted her head slightly to the left, keeping her eyes fixed upon the miserable excuse for a master vampire in front of her. It had taken almost two decades, but she had found him. Her Angelus.  
  
She couldn't help but notice that the bond they once shared had weakened. To be completely truthful, it scared her. Obviously, something was wrong, and damn it she wasn't going to figure it out.  
  
Still, she had found what she came for. Casting a look at her minions, she was pleased to see a vampire sinking his fangs into a young girls neck before moving on to the next. The violence around her seemed to enhance the moment.  
  
With a suggestive, sexy smile, the blonde vampiress attempted to saunter into the hut. Who said the chains around Angelus' wrists were a bad thing, Darla mused silently. All of the gypsies were going to be dead soon anyway: why not have a little fun in the midst of it? It was the kind of twisted irony that Angelus would have loved.  
  
What Darla hadn't anticipated, though, was the magical barrier surrounding the hut.  
  
She was repelled from the doorway, hitting the soil hard. Hot white pain shot through her limbs, and a perplexed look crossed her face.  
  
"Angelus?" she whimpered  
  
"I...I killed them," Angel whispered back, barely even registering his sire's cry. Images continued to harass his mind. Nothing made sense except the color red. It was everywhere. "It's my fault. I, I deserve this. My father always knew I was going to be a failure. A failure. And Kathy! Oh, god. She's. My fault. All my fault." The muscles in his neck had relaxed, and his posture was entirely unlike him.  
  
Darla was desperate now. Something was *seriously* wrong with Angelus. "What the Hell did they do to you!" She got up, and cautiously approached the entryway again. Keeping out of the threshold, she tried getting Angelus' attention by calling his name.  
  
He was having none of it. He just kept muttering incoherently about being sorry about everything. Literally. Every little thing he had ever done. It was like a...a human!, Darla realized. She held back the gag at the thought that the Scourge of Europe being reduced to the same level as such a filthy, digusting species. But how?  
  
"Angelus," she called out loudly, one final time. She concentrated all her energy on the faded, but present, sire-childe bond. She withheld a sigh of relief as his eyes became focused once more.  
  
"Angelus, baby, what did they do to you?"  
  
"Get out of here." He spoke quietly, but harshly. "They'll get you."  
  
Within moments his body started to shake visibly. Once again, he secumbed to his vegatative trance.  
  
"Too late," another voice rasped. It was one of the gypsies. She lay on the ground, slowly choking on her own blood. A vampire had already gotten to her, but she was still alive. In his haste, he hadn't drained her entirely. Knowing her end had come, she was determined to make one final act. It wasn't hard to identify the blonde vampiress in front of her. She had seen her in her dreams, even as the monster killed her sister. It was the vampire that had gotten away. If she could kill Darla, revenge, in her mind, would be achieved. Summoning her power, she did the next best thing. Her eyes turned black, and her hair went from light brown to match her eyes. With the aid of her great-grandmother's spirit, she hissed out a string of latin phrases. She exhaled her final breath just as the Darla fell to her knees in agony. 


	4. Part 3

Her mind throbbed; images passed before her, devouring her in her own misery. When she looked back up at Angelus, she realized what had happened to him. What happened to her.  
  
A soul. She could feel her body convulsing, attempting to reject the intruding soul. She was old, older than Angelus, and she had far more sins to regret. With all her being, she attempted to fight it off. But the magic was to strong: she collapsed in exhaustion, with a soul deeply imbedded in her chest.  
  
Angel watched quietly as Darla fell. His mind was not quiet, by any means, but no words escaped his lips. Not until he felt the sun begin to rise.  
  
As much as he had come to hate his sire for destroying him, he couldn't be responsible for the death of the one who thought she was offering life. He wasn't sure his soul could stand the burden.  
  
At the same time, though, he wondered if it would be kinder to let her burst into flame. Then, she wouldn't have the same itching desire to torture herself, to knife her eyes out, to never look upon her hands again. Hell would be worse, he reasoned to himself, even in his confused mind. He had to give her the choice of a second chance.  
  
He growled audibly, and began muttering. As Angelus, he had flipped through many spells, although he was never all that good at it. Here, surrounded by the magical presence of the gypsies (especially with all the loose magic being admitted off the dead bodies), he was able to cast a simple spell.  
  
A healing spell, he thought dryly. Angelus would never have thought he would need it. Strange.  
  
The spell barely succedded in bringing his sire from her unconciousness, but her eyes opened and she was aware enough of the danger of the approaching dawn. He could see the turmoil inside her dazed eyes, but he also saw something akin to gratitude.  
  
She smiled at him, though it was more of a kind gesture than something portraying actual emotion. "You saved me," she whispered. Was she really worth saving to him? she thought. Did he care enough for her, even after all that she had done, to prevent her death?  
  
Angel just sat there, unreadable. She took a step toward him before remembering the spell on the hut. With a quick glance at the reddening sky, she looked him in the eye. "Thank you, my Angelus. I...I'm not ready to go yet." Tears threatened to clense her eyes for the first time in almost 300 years. They wouldn't be washed with water and salt, but with blood. "I will return the favor." She looked hopeful. " I can save you." With that said, she dashed for the shelter of the fading shadows. Moments later, the sun rose above the hill, shedding light on the frozen corpses. Angel shivered as the sun rose, in physical pain. He didn't plan on ever seeing Darla again, she would probably drown in her sins and forget all about him. Right now, she was just wading the water.  
  
AN: Should I continue???? 


	5. Part 4 Yes, this fic WILL be BA

Title: The Need for Revenge  
  
Author: Fallingdux  
  
Disclaimer: The following lyrics are property of Audioslave  
  
Distribution: As long as my name's on it, you can send it to hell in a picnic basket if that's where you want to send it. I'd like to know if it's going anywhere, but you don't have to ask.  
  
Rating: PG-13? No idea. Whatever rating light swearing earns. Subject to change as the story continues.  
  
SPECIAL THANKS TO KENDRA FOR HER WONDERFUL FEEDBACK  
  
*******Part 5********  
  
Darla squinted her eyes, straining against the dim surroundings. She tried ignoring the constant, droning palpitation of heartbeats. The combined effort was causing her head to spin.  
  
On the far wall of the club, she noticed a large mirror that ran across the entire length of the room. Lights danced across its glass surface, reflecting harsh beams of color throughout the club. She blinked, trying to focus her mind.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed several guys swaggering drukenly. In their inebriated state, two of them began exchanging punches. The taller one got the advantage, and threw his opponent against the mirror, causing several cracks and splinters to spread across the surface like ivy. No one payed them any mind, save the disgruntled bartender who simply looked on with annoyance.  
  
If not for the loud screetching of a poorly-tuned guitar and the pandimonious atmosphere, it would have been painfully obvious that more than half of the patrons were not reflected in the mirror. Again, though, it seemed like no one cared.  
  
Shrinking into the shadows, she avoided being seen as she snuck around to a stairway in one of the darkened corners of the room. She sighed heavily: tonight it seemed a lot more crowded than it usually was. Mildly, she wondered if Tylonol had any effect on vampires.  
  
"Hey there Sunshine," a familiar voice called out from behind her. Already knowing who it was, she turned slowly.  
  
"Lorne," she greeted. "Can't you do any better than Sunshine?" His forehead wrinkled a bit in concentration. "Sorry Princess, Sunshine's all I've got," he smirked. "So, what can I do for you? Haven't seen you around all week, thought you'd forgotten 'bout me."  
  
She snorted. "I wish. I came to say yes, I'll do it. Just let me make this clear: no one hears about this. Ever," she stressed.  
  
Lorne grinned knowingly. "Knew you'd come around Flufflefangs." Her glare only caused his smile to widen. "So, what'll it be?"  
  
"A tequila would be good," she said sarcastically. Her gaze dropped down to her left hand and she eyed it carefully, as if just realizing the bottle that her fingers were wrapped tightly around. Raising it to her lips, she took a swig of the cheep liqour. It burned down her throat, and she held back the urge to gag on the foul liquid. Even after all her centuries of living, she was still not accustomed to the taste. Flinching slightly at the taste, she took another swig.  
  
"You know what I meant," he admonished gently.  
  
She shrugged. "Fine. Show Me How to Live, then. Audioslave." At Lorne's raised eyebrow, she explained "Spike and his damn music. Only shit I know the words to." She raised the drink to her lips again. Her mind was still too clear for her tastes.  
  
"And you're sure you want to do this up here? The crowd would love ya."  
  
She shivered at the mental image. "Just put on the fucking song."  
  
"And with the early dawn  
  
Moving right along  
  
I couldn't buy an eyeful of sleep  
  
And in the aching night under satellites  
  
I was not received  
  
Built with stolen parts  
  
A telephone in my heart  
  
Someone get me a priest  
  
To put my mind to bed  
  
This ringing in my head  
  
Is this a cure or is this a disease  
  
(Chorus)  
  
Nail in my head  
  
From my creator  
  
You gave me life   
  
Now show me how to live  
  
And in the after birth  
  
On the quiet earth  
  
Let the stains remind you  
  
You thought you made a man  
  
You better thing again  
  
Before my role defines you  
  
(Chorus)  
  
Nail in my head  
  
From my creator  
  
You gave me life   
  
Now show me how to live  
  
And in your waiting hands  
  
I will land  
  
And roll out of my skin  
  
And in your final hours I will stand  
  
Ready to begin 


End file.
